In Direst Peril

t she adopted certain devices to hide the ravages of time which had, as they always have, the effect of emp

yself. As a matter of fact, as I found out not so long afterwards, the Baroness Bonnar was no more a baroness than I was a baron, but simply and merely an adventuress who had spent some time on the Vienna stage, where she had secured no great success. She was now one of that almost innumerable band of spies who lived at that time in the service of the Austrian government. She was not a very clever

er having the least guess of it), and reported all her doings to her superiors-stayed only one night in Itzia, and then went on to a village some dozen miles away, where she put up with some friends of hers who had a country-house there. Then nothing w

its train, however, and, to tell the truth, I asked nothing much better than to have Brunow out of my scheme. The matter came about in this wise: Breschia and I were seated in his private room, when a non-commissioned officer entered with his report for th

" he said. "Sen

saluted and retired, and Bres

, and an honest servant, but so incorrigibly kind-hearted that he is always

the fellow, who was just a mere simple, common soldier. He was attired in a sort of fatigue costume, and looked and smelled as if he had just been sent away from stable duty. His short cropped hair was of a fiery auburn, and his rough features, with a prodigious mustache and the most ponderous over-beetling eyebrows I had ever seen, gave him a look rather of ferocity than of good-nature. But when in answer to the lieutenant's rating he began to excuse himself, it was evident even to an ear so untrained and igno

in his own halting English. "You are too much a sil

stonishment, in good native-sounding English, "I

eutenant, turning upon me and speaking in his customary French, "who has been in the English

and addressing him in English, "you h

as he had done the lieutenant on his

he fellow?" I asked the lieuten

utenant. "Vous le trouverez

ou been in the A

e at all, sir. Gen

in fatig

tom, sir. Like the

here

years

You don't look a

he band at home as a boy.

s your

Bob Hinge, sir. Tattenham Fancy. Champi

u been getting in

hat, sir. Discipline, sir. Can see as you'r

f there's anything fit to drink i

with him? Very good. Go. And let me hear of you no mor

aluted an

n English, though I could see he was proud of having acquitted himself so well in that tongue. "He is so stupid and so good

e been doin

ssion to Miss Ros-sano's hapless father? And was he therefore the man of all others whom I needed to lay hands on? If that were so it seemed nothing less than a providence that t

from Breschia to Brunow, and was awaiting the return of that gentleman, who was once again away in pursuit of the soi-disant baroness, but had promised to be back in time for dinner. When I entered the kitchen to demand a draught of milk, the man rose up and saluted me, and explained his errand. In the course of my ramble I had had hardly anything but this man in mind, and I had been planning to make use of him. When I met him all my plans seemed to go to pieces. I shal

glass in his left hand, and saluting a

dding towards the glass. He ha

t it's better than nothing, and it's a

I asked him. He smiled a slow smile a

have, sir, and I w

I'll give you as good a glass

im sit down, but he remained standing, and I had to give the invitation as an order before he would obey it. Then he sat like a figure carved in wood, with his shoulders back, his head well up, a hand on

nother thimbleful. I seized the flask from his hand and poured him eno

d the mixture with a

made up my mind how to begin with him, "that you are constantly breaking the rul

act, sir,"

oin on the table before him, and sat down in front of him. "I'd give s

n tobacco, I suppose, sir?" He had taken up the coin and was holding it in his

le comfort, as yo

n. "You're an Englishman and you're a gentle

f my man would talk. I thought he looke

"Miserable kind of an 'ole it is, sir, for a man to live in. I think I

as that?

ong with the general, and I don't want to lose it. So long as we're in Vienna or anywhe

it was pr

what you may call such a miserable hole, sir. Ther

ny prisoners

The place swarms with 'em. I should think there's

ated "No

most of 'em is, sir; Eyetalians, mainly. Of course one doesn't value that kind o' rubbish much. They're foreigners, sir, every man Jac

but you're not very discreet. Suppose I rep

d, sir, the general's got a good groom, sir, and he knows it. He's a judge of a horse, sir, and he know

e to have been put purposely in my way this morning as a very good-natured and very stupid fellow, and supposing Robert Hinge to have been

myself into a state of feverish nervousness by thinking that this man Hinge was probably a true and genuine fellow, and that I had missed my chance with him. It was the clattering of a horse's hoof in the back yard of the inn that awoke me from my reverie, and looking out I saw Brunow in the act of dismounting. He waved his han

apologizing for troubling us with his poor hospitality so often, but will I go over and take you wi

rusted to return alone. We compromised for a man with a lantern, and on that shook hands and took our leave. A man in uniform met us at the gate of the grim place, and was about to set out with us when Hinge appeared, and, without a word, took the lantern from his hand. As we made our way along the dark and stony road, with the little circle of light dancing and waving in front of us, Hinge stumbled against me twice or thrice. At first it crossed me that he had been m

id Hinge, "and that's the inn righ

"We can find the way now

ed, and so turned away, while Brun

oth embarked, and had now so apparently forgotten all about it in dancing attendance on the Baroness Bonnar, that I should have made no scruple of leaving him out of my co

that it was the same that Brunow had shown me in his r

s what

glishman for whose hands this is meant will send a line to the Contessa di Rossano, daughter of General Sir Arthur Rollinson, to assur

the great solemn bulk of the fortress, as it stood for the time being almost white in the moonlight against the monstrous shadow of the bills. My mind was in a miserable whirl, and I knew not what to make of anything. This wretched state lasted until broad dawn, and I was still troubled by it when I walked into the keen morning air, towel in hand, for my customary swim. I undressed slowly by the river-side and stood thinking, until I was so nipped by the keen breath of the wind which blew clear down from the mountain-tops that I plunged in

essed, and set out at a round pace towards the bridge. I reached it when he was within

ed me that he had seen